Legacy of the Blue Spirit
by artNpen
Summary: The intriguing mask is liberating, both in a physical and spiritual sense. Zuko must continue the legacy of the Blue Spirit as he struggles to find his right path, and endure the challenges he must face. Love, betrayal, and a little action too. Blutara.
1. Prologue

_Legacy_

Prologue

Theirs was a romance forbidden. The child born from their union had all the passionate fire of his father, and the calm reserve of his mother. His beauty was unparalleled. However, enraged and jealous by her husband's betrayal, the Fire Sprit cursed the child with skin as blue as the darkest ocean and tusks of pearlescent white. She stripped the boy of his claim to her husband's domain, feeling only hate for the bastard child.

Embarrassed by her son's curse, and fearing more retaliation from the Fire Spirit, the Ocean Spirit took her son and fled to the human world. Yet, the boy's grotesque disfigurement was met with fear and scorn. The Ocean Spirit and her son traveled to village after village, seeking solace from the threat of fire. Distraught at the constant rejection, the woman cried out to her lover beseeching his aid.

The Sun Spirit came swiftly on beams of light and caressed hit lover's face, promising her everything she desired. As the Sun Spirit turned to greet his child, he was stunned at the boy's face. Not knowing of his wife's retaliation, he believed their forbidden tryst had produced a deformed child. Refusing to set aside his pride, the Sun Spirit left, providing only fire to keep the small family alive.

The Ocean Spirit, aching from her lover's abandonment, was overcome with despair and pain. She began to neglect her duties as the boy's protector and mother, and fell into a state of grief. The young boy was forced to hunt and steal provisions from nearby villages in order to care for his mother. They fell into a comfortable routine—at least as comfortable as one can be secluded in the woods. The boy, at the beginnings of adolescence, built a shelter with two rooms, filling his mother's with fine rugs and trinkets. Though a far cry from their home in the Spirit World, it was enough.

One day the young man, tall and strong, returning with a pair of beautiful silk slippers for his mother was surprised to find her missing. He called out for her, though he received no answer. Pacing frantically around the perimeter of their camp, he stopped as he heard the faint sound of water splashing. He turned, following the sound to the banks of the lake he fished from. He saw his mother, sitting on a rock gently kicking her feet in the water.

"Mother, there you are. I was worried." He began to slowly take his shoes off, keeping his eyes on the dazed woman. He followed her gaze for a moment, not surprised to find it on the Moon. The young man walked into the water reaching his hands out.

"Mother, let's go back. I brought you a present."

"The Moon is full tonight. Isn't it lovely?" Her face glowed in the soft moonlight.

"Yes, mother. Come, you must be hungry." He slipped on a rock, plunging underneath the surface, coming up sputtering and cursing.

"I'll eat later. I want to bathe first." Finally her gaze fell to him, amusement tilting the corners of her mouth upward. "I'd like some privacy."

Blushing, the young man gave a sharp nod and turned back. "I won't be too far if you need me."

She laughed softly, "I won't."

He was several yard past the edge of the woods when he heard a voice. A male voice. He stopped, his shoulders ridged, his hand searching for his swords. Their conversation was too low for him to hear clearly. He walked around the bend, his steps silent. A man with tanned skin stood in the water, his hand caressing the skin behind his mother's knee. His hair, a veil of pure white, was pulled into a high topknot, his robes a cascading pale blue. The water around his waist tossed and turned as if being pushed and pulled simultaneously.

"Let me love you." His mother sighed softly, wrapping her arms around the man's shoulders she pressed her lips to his. "Yes." He pulled her into the water, holding her close. The boy turned his head, cheeks warm, embarrassed by the sight and sounds of their panting breaths. He walked back to camp, humiliated and angry.

Hours trickled by before the woman's return. The change in her countenance was obvious, her face still flushed with heat.

"Took you long enough." She smiled at her son, ignoring his reprimand.

"Where is this gift you mentioned before?" He picked up the parcel and placed it firmly in her hands. His mother opened the package delicately, her breath catching at the sight of the deep blue silk. "Oh, my darling, they are beautiful. Wherever did you find the fabric?" She brushed her feet clean then slipped them into the soft shoes.

"I stumbled across some merchants. Do you like them?" She stood and embraced him.

"I love them, thank you." She kissed his cheeks—the boy cringed from the image of his mother and the man in the water.

The secret meetings between his mother and the mystery man continued for months, always on the night of a full moon. He wanted to question his mother, demand she tell him the identity of the man, but that would mean admitting his invasion of her privacy. After a year of hiding his knowledge of her tryst, the young man was anxiously waiting for his mother's return. '_She's late_,' he thought. Trusting his mother would eventually return, the young man allowed himself to doze.

When the sun's warm rays fell on his face, he awoke, looking over to his mother's room. His heart stopped. Her door was ajar, the curtains gently swaying with the breeze. "Mother," he whispered. He pushed through the door; sure it had been closed when he drifted to sleep. A white water lily lay elegantly against her pillow, a roll of parchment placed beside it.

_Darling child, _

_I have neglected my responsibilities as the Ocean Spirit for far too long. I must return to the spirit world and fulfill my duties. I hope that one day you will join me, when your birth has been forgotten. Until that day, I wish you every happiness. You are a man now. Be strong. Marry a girl with blue eyes. Be yourself. _

_My love, my heart, my son, I will love you always._

_Mother _

The man wandered for months, retracing the steps he took with his mother, not knowing how to cross the bridge to the spirit world, not knowing how to find her. He was dazed, hurt, and confused. It was reaching the first village the pair sought refuge from on the night of a full moon that sent him over the edge. He ransacked the village, killing ever woman, child and man—leaving a river of blood so thick and potent it is was smelt in the Spirit World.

"We meet again bastard child of my husband."

He didn't need to turn to know who spoke. The Fire Spirit's voice was forever engrained in his memory.

"You did this to me!" He brought down his broad sword in a sweeping arc, tensing when the blade cut through her like smoke.

She laughed. "Such anger. There is no doubt of your lineage. What's wrong? You look a little blue."

"You evil witch. You're behind everything! It's all your fault. Remove thi—"

"No, you're mother is at fault here. She seduced my husband and bore him a child. She brought this curse on you herself. Such a union is forbidden; regardless he already belonged to me." She circled around him, taking in his image.

"However, since she has disposed of her feelings for my husband and has taken up house with the Moon Spirit, I will grant you reprieve." She appeared before him as he dropped to his knees. He grabbed the hem of her crimson robes, pleading with her to remove the curse.

"You must purge yourself of all traces of my husband's blood. You must remove the remnants of the lies, deceit, anger and passion that fueled my husband's betrayal. Do this, and I will lift the curse. Fail, and all your posterity will live with your curse forever."


	2. To Honor the Spirits

_Legacy_

Chapter 1: To Honor the Spirits

The smooth glide of metal against metal, the heavy weight familiar—Zuko exhaled softly as he transitioned between forms. His focus was steady as he thrust his Dao swords in an arc, his muscles acting on years of memory.

Zuko's daily practice sessions were conducted under the keen supervision of Iroh, the former general and Dragon of the West. Iroh took great care in training his nephew, whom he thought of as his son. The years following Zuko's banishment had been tainted with the boy's obsession to find the avatar. This conquest, decreed by an abusive father and power hungry king, had changed the boy for the worst. Gone was the sympathetic, caring young boy—in his place a violently angry, depressed young man with no hope in life but capturing the Avatar. What determination Zuko had was centered on pleasing a father who had permanently scared him, physically and mentally. Perhaps it was the boy's imminent failure, his eventual downfall that gave Iroh no choice but to follow him. Perhaps it was affection and a longing for family. Nevertheless, through every tantrum, fight, and sticky situation that Zuko found himself in, Iroh was determined to be there—to be the one steady hand of support that Zuko could rely on. And so he watched and guided Zuko, teaching him the art of war and life.

Iroh's gaze never wavered from Zuko's form. For the first time since his banishment, Iroh noted, his nephew's form was perfect. His grip was firm, his stance solid, his breathing calm and focused. Iroh grinned in fatherly pride.

As Zuko brought his last set to a close, Iroh, along with several of the men on deck, applauded their Prince. "Well done, Nephew. I have never seen you so calm and focused. I believe you are ready for the advanced level. You should feel very proud of yourself."

Zuko's cheeks flushed with color at the praise of his uncle and his men. He gave Iroh a traditional bow. "Thank you, Uncle."

"Now, how about a nice cup of jasmine tea?" Iroh turned to pour a cup for Zuko and refill his own.

"Not now, Uncle. I'm going to go mediate. Do not disturb me unless you spot the Avatar." As Zuko strode pass his uncle he was stopped by a tug on his sleeve.

"Just one cup of tea. It will relax you. We have something important to discuss." At Iroh's pleading look Zuko rolled his eyes and sat with a huff. His previous calm disposition was instantly replaced with one of irritation. He watched as his uncle poured cup of leaf juice, steam rising in a soft cloud. Zuko took the offered cup, taking a small sip. He looked up. "What did you want to discuss?"

Iroh took a parchment from his robe, unrolled it, and held it up for his nephew's view.

"Prince Zuko, look at this charming advertisement!" The parchment was painted in vibrant colors with images of women in elaborate gowns and men in dashing robes. Each wore a vibrant mask. "Lieutenant Jee said one of the crew found it on deck this morning. Fate is treating us well. We need replenish our supplies, so a village is provided. The men are bored with music night, so now we have a party to attend. We could have a nice little holiday." Iroh rolled the parchment and tucked it into the snug material around his waist.

"This is what was so important? I don't have time for costume parties, Uncle. I'm too close to capturing the avatar. We need to keep moving." Zuko disregarded the disappointment on Iroh's face as he stood and prepared to leave. He stopped, finding Lieutenant Jee blocking his way.

"Move."

"Sir, if I may be so bold…we last spotted the Avatar heading this direction a few days ago. It is possible that he may have stopped in this village." He held Zuko's gaze as he continued. "This village may have information regarding the whereabouts of the Avatar. There is a possibility he may even still be there."

"Prince Zuko, the Avatar seems like a fun-loving lad, I'm sure he'll be too excited at the chance to party to pass this village by. Besides, even the Avatar needs to stop for supplies." Iroh spoke to Zuko's back, a conniving smirk quirking his lips.

"You're right, Uncle. The avatar is just a kid. He'll take any excuse he can to play." Zuko turned to regard the lieutenant. "Lieutenant Jee, inform the captain he is to dock immediately." Jee nodded, giving a short bow to the Fire Nation Prince.

Jee turned to share a wink and victorious smile with Iroh. He wouldn't have to sing tonight. He turned to the men, issuing orders with little bite, the crew eager to bring the ship to port.

Iroh poured himself another cup of tea, enjoying the fresh buzz of excitement on board.

oOoOo

"The food is so good here! Ah, I'm in paradise."

Aang laughed at Sokka, looking on in amusement as he tried to see how much food could fit in his mouth at once. Sokka and Aang had high spirits as they moved from cart to cart. Sokka made sure to sample each and every meat specialty available, while Aang admired the unique handcrafted toys from around the Earth Kingdom. As they perused the populated street, a splotch of vibrant colors caught Sokka's attention.

"Hey, Aang. Check this out." Sokka pointed to the colorful ad, his eyes tracing the lines of the pictures, his gaze becoming dreamy. "Can't you imagine it? All the meat, all the pretty girls. And, of course I'd show off my killer dance moves." Sokka began moving his hips, punching his arms, and bobbing his head to an imaginary beat. He struck pose after pose, ego pouring out with each expression. "Oh, yeah, I'm hot, I'm cool, watch me now, BAM!"

"Cool! Can you teach me how to dance like that?" Aang clutched his fist in a pleading manner, eager to learn the 'latest' dance moves. "I would, but I don't think you could handle all the coolness," Sokka said, throwing his hands behind his head, his hips angled in another pose.

"I can, Sokka. I can handle the coolness. C'mon, please teach me!" Aang looked up at Sokka, his eyes watering, his lip quivering. Sokka shrugged. "Alright, I guess I can show you a few moves."

"Yay!" With a burst of air Aang skirted about camp on his air scooter, his laughter ringing through the clearing. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"What's going to be so much fun?" Aang stopped abruptly, the excess wind pushing Sokka over. "Hi Katara! Did you get everything you were looking for?" Aang asked, his voice tilted higher than usual. Katara quirked an eyebrow at the pair.

"Uh, yes. What were you too talking about?"

Sokka and Aang exchanged glances, both dreading her reaction.

"Well," Aang began.

"Look at this," he turned slightly and pointed at the ad. "There's a party in a couple days in the village. The sign says it's the 'Festival of Masks.' Doesn't it sound like fun?"

Katara hesitated a moment, knowing her decision would disappoint Aang. "I'm sorry, Aang, but Prince Zuko is hot on our trail. We need to keep moving. We've been making too many stops as it is. We're behind schedule. You haven't even mastered water bending y—"

"Please, Katara! We'll get to wear masks. No one will recognize us."

"We don't have enough money to buy costumes and still have enough to buy supplies the next time we run out. I'm sorry Aang." She turned to walk back to Appa, her shoulders pulled back and chin raised. She would be firm on this.

"We could get jobs. Please, Katara, I really want to go to the party. Besides, if we wear masks no one will be able to tell who we are. We'll be totally safe from Zuko."

She studied his face for a moment. _'He looks so excited. All we do is run from Prince Zuko anyway. What would it hurt?' _She bit her lip debating with herself. _'But there's no way of knowing how many fire nation guards are stationed in this village. We just left a colony, it's likely that this village is one too. It's too dangerous.' _Katara looked back to Aang, prepared to tell him no, but paused at the earnest look on his face. She sighed.

"Fine."

"Wahoo! Thanks Katara, we're going to have so much fun! You won't even have to work. We'll do everything." He pumped his fist in the air. "There'll be music, dancing, and I can't wait to play some Earth kingdom games. This is gonna be great!" Aang spun around in circles before running back to Sokka, asking once again for dance lessons.

'_At least this way I'll get them to take a bath.'_

oOoOo

"What do you mean I have to wear a mask?" Zuko pushed away from his uncle, glaring at the passersby. "How will I find the Avatar if he's wearing a mask? This is pointless. I'm going back to the ship."

Before he could walk away, Iroh placed his hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous, Prince Zuko. You are very skilled in tracking. It will be easy to spot the Avatar with his enthusiastic personality. Besides, he will probably wear a mask resembling of his past lives or an Air spirit. Enjoy the celebration. Eat, drink, dance, and relax. Finding the Avatar will be easy." Iroh brushed past Zuko, heading toward a store with bright, expensive clothing in the display. "Finding a costume, on the other hand, will not be so easy."

Zuko, sighed in frustration, his mouth set in a grim frown. "I hate shopping."

He reluctantly followed his uncle into the shop, immediately making his way towards the owner as Iroh began looking through racks of long robes.

"May I help you, sir?" The man had an excited air about him, the grin on his face wide and beaming.

"What information do you have on the Avatar?" Zuko asked in a low voice, leaning on the counter slightly.

"The Avatar? Ha-ha, kids these days. The Avatar hasn't been seen around these parts in over a hundred years." The man's shoulders shook with amusement.

"I know he was here. I saw him heading this way several days ago. He _had_ to have stopped here."

The man's smile faltered for a moment before returning even wider. "Have you tried our Gingerroot ale? It's our village's specialty. It might be a little strong for someone as young as you though."

"Argh!" Zuko stalked away fuming. "Uncle, we're leaving." Iroh looked up from the multitude of robes in his arms.

"Nephew, this is a very difficult choice. Should I dress as Hei Bai, the forest spirit, or Tui, the moon Spirit?"

"A panda or a fish? How about a dragon? What about Feng? You should dress as a strong spirit, something that reflects the greatness of the Fire Nation." Zuko stated with annoyance. Iroh merely shook his head before calling out the owner.

"Excuse me, could I get this in a larger size?"

Zuko rolled his eyes as he left the shop. He began walking through the streets, stopping at every few shops to ask about the Avatar. Each answer was the same: he had not been seen. Frustrated with the amount of time wasted, Zuko was about turn back and inform his uncle that they would not be attending the festival, when he spotted a cart full of masks. The cart was tucked in a dark corner some distance away from the busy street. He felt a strong pull in his chest, yet at the same time a sense of forbidding in his stomach. He walked over hesitantly. His eyes traveled over each mask, his eyes widening at the grotesque appearances. He could think of only a few spirits known to be deformed; however, there were at least three dozen displayed. Zuko's eyes stopped at a blue mask trimmed in white with protruding tusks. He felt cold, surrounded by silence.

"A word of caution before you proceed."

Zuko startled, his fists pluming with fire rounded behind him prepared to attack. He pulled up short at the sight of an old woman—her skin grey with age, her hair white as the purest snow, her eyes a bright amber. She was dressed in dark, unadorned robes. At her Fire Nation appearance Zuko lowered his fists.

"What do you mean?"

"Spirits are tied to animals and various tokens throughout our world. Take caution on the night when the boundaries between our world and the Spirit World are closest, weakest. Take care not to tie yourself to the spirits, in doing so there are those who will hold you responsible for grievances committed by others."

"You're mumbling nonsense. How much for this mask?" Zuko grabbed the blue mask, turning to face the woman once more.

"No mortal price. Your payment for the mask will come in time."

"You're giving it to me for free?"

The woman closed her eyes, a grin stretching across her face. "I expect no money for the mask. You may take it, if that is what you wish."

Zuko hesitated, glancing down at the mask in his hands, then back towards the mysterious woman. He bowed politely. "Thank you for your generosity."

The woman gave no response. She merely watched him with an unwavering gaze. He turned and quickly left the alcove. As he glanced over his shoulder, still feeling perturbed about what the woman said, he saw nothing. The woman and cart was gone.

Unsure of how to feel, Zuko quickly walked back up the street. As he rounded the corner of the shop where his uncle was bidding the shop owner farewell, an ice cold chill ran down Zuko's spine. He tucked the mask in his uncle's basket before bringing his hands to his mouth, blowing heat to warm them.

"Is everything alright Zuko?" Iroh asked, a concerned look on his face.

"I'm fine, Uncle. I just caught a chill." Iroh nodded. "Well, just the same I think we should visit a tea house before heading back to the ship." Zuko followed along beside Iroh, paying little attention to his uncle's babbling.

As a soft breeze ruffled his topknot quiet laughter tickled his ear.


	3. History

_Legacy of the Blue Spirit_

Chapter 2: History

"Sokka, you have glitter on your face," Aang said as he avoided another flying mass of shiny fabric. He snickered at the animalistic screech that came out of Sokka's throat.

"For the love of everything that is manly—get it off!" Sokka scratched and rubbed at his face, frantically trying to remove the tiny shimmering speck. He paused for a second to glance at Aang.

"Nope, it's still there."

"Well, don't just stand there. Help m—argh!" Sokka coughed and sputtered as a stream of water splashed his face. He wiped the cold drops from his face, hesitantly asking "Is it gone?"

After a brief moment of inspection Aang nodded. "Yep, you're glitter free."

"Thank, La." Sokka sighed, relaxing his shoulders.

"A piece of glitter? That's what you were so panicked over? I thought a hummingbee was after you." Katara shook her head at the memory of her brother's flailing.

Sokka glared at his sister, puffing out his chest in defense. "I'll have you know that it's not masculine for a man to have glitter on him. I'm not _that_ kind of guy, Katara." His arms folded across his chest, his nose in the air.

"'_That_ kind of guy?' What you mean?" Aang looked between the brother-sister pair with confusion.

Sokka turned and laid an arm around Aang's shoulder, bringing him in close. He looked around for a moment before quietly explaining.

"Aang, I know you grew up in a monastery, so the monks probably never told you this, but there are certain kinds of men that like to dress in drag—that is women's clothing. They even put on makeup and wear girly wigs and everything. It's a very poor representation of the male population. I mean, they don't even like women!" Sokka pulled away and turned back to the clothing rack.

"But didn't you dress up in girl's clothing and wear makeup on Kioshi Island? Does that make you one of _those_ guys?" Aang asked, struggling to hide his mischievous grin.

At the look on her brother's face Katara couldn't contain her laughter. She clutched her stomach, tears blinding her.

"Those were ceremonial robes, not dresses. And that was war paint, not makeup!" Sokka's face turned red with anger and embarrassment. "I am _not_ one of _those _ guys."

"Oh Aang, you should have seen him when we were little. He used to get into dad's 'war paint' and play dress up with mom's parka because dad's was always way too big."

"I was training to be a warrior. That war paint intimidates the enemy. Besides, it's tradition." Sokka began to sulk at the constant teasing.

"Aw, it's okay, Sokka. I thought you looked great with the war paint." Aang placed his hand on Sokka's shoulder, shaking it slightly.

"Really?"

"Yeah, almost as pretty as Suki." Aang darted out of the way as Sokka took a swing at him.

"You're not funny."

Katara and Aang snickered, preparing for more teasing, when someone's throat cleared.

"What a lovely group of teenagers. Are you all looking for costumes for the festival?" The store owner glanced over the group, trying to gauge how much money he could get from them. He turned and directed the trio to the back corner of the shop where the most expensive costumes were held.

"Are there any spirits in particular that interest you? I can tell you that the animal spirits have been very popular this year.

Aang smiled excitedly. "What about any of the Avatars?"

The owner smiled and directed Aang back to the front of the store. "The past avatars have also been very popular. We have heard rumors that the Avatar has returned."

Aang puffed out his chest, his grin falling into a 'distinguished' expression. "Well, I happen to be the Avatar. My name is Aang, it's nice to meet you."

The owner laughed. "Son, if I believed every kid who came in here claiming to be the Avatar I'd have no business."

Aang frowned. "It's true! I'll show you," he said as he moved his hands in a circle, creating an air scooter, and sat on it. He skirted around the shop before stopping in front of the owner.

The owner's eyes widened. "You're an air bender? You're the Avatar? I never thought I'd get to meet you. Please, anything in my store is half price to you and your friends. I will help you in any way I can."

"Thank you for your generosity." Aang said as he bowed to the man.

"Please, it is an honor."

"Excuse me, but do you happen to have any costumes of the Water Tribe spirits?" Katara asked, her eyes catching on a patch of dark blue fabric.

"I've never met anyone from the Water Tribes before. Which tribe are you from?"

"We are from the Southern tribe."

"Ah, yes. I believe I bought a set of original Wolf Warrior armor a few months ago from a merchant. I'm not sure if it correlates with any of your spirits, but it is authentic." The owner walked down toward the blue fabric Katara had eyed earlier and pulled it from the rack.

"You have an original set of Kernok's armor? I can't believe it! I haven't seen one since Dad left." Sokka threaded his hands through the fur lining, and traced the wolf emblem reverently. "Can I try it on?" He asked with reverence. At the man's nod Sokka dashed into the changing room.

"Who was Kernok, Katara?" Aang asked, holding the tray of kohl and grey face-paint that came with the armor.

"When our tribe was newly settled in the South, we received much aid by the arctic wolves. They saw how we pushed and pulled the water, and so the wolves allowed us to hunt on their lands. We believe that the alpha, Kernok, was actually a spirit, since wolves are naturally our enemy. Wolves hunt as a pack and protect each other as a family. Eventually the wolves became our brothers. We hunted together, ate together, lived together. It became tradition that when a brother wolf died, he would become a guardian for a soldier. We began to dress our warriors with the skins of these wolves, and paint their faces to resemble their guardian brother. This allows the wolf to live on. As chief, my father wears Kernok's pelt. It has been passed down for many generations. Sokka will wear it one day." Katara's eyes filled with unshed tears at the thought of her father.

"What a delightful story. If your father is a chief, you must be a princess then. I have a beautiful dress you would like. If you would wait in a changing room I will bring it to you." The owner gave Katara a kind smile before walking away.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll see your dad again soon." Aang put his hand on Katara's shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"It's not just that."

Aang's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Katara looked over her shoulder to find the owner busy looking through garments. She took Aang's hand and followed Sokka's path. She glanced at the owner and around the shop once more before leaning in.

"The only way this guy would have Wolf armor is if it was taken. That warrior had to have been killed in order so someone to steal it. Sokka's probably trying to see who it belongs to. He has to take it home if the soldier has died. It has to be stored and preserved until the wolf chooses another warrior." Katara pulled away as the owner came back, a beautiful silk dress in his arms.

"Here you are, miss. I think this will do nicely." The man held the dress up for Katara to see.

Katara's breath caught at the beauty of it. The dress was a deep indigo with thick straps on the shoulders with a pale lavender wrap on top. The top of the wrap was lined in white fur and would be worn off the shoulders. She took the dress gingerly and slowly walked into the dressing room. At the same time, Sokka walked out dressed in Armor.

"So, how do I look?" Sokka asked as he posed with his boomerang behind his head.

"You look…older." Aang said with his head tilted to the side.

"Where's Katara?" Sokka said as he looked around the shop.

"She's trying on her costume."

Sokka folded his arms in front of him, a pout turning his lips downward. "She couldn't wait for me? Some sister. So ungrateful. She doesn't consider how much of her… of her… girliness I have to put up with."

Aang covered his mouth as he snickered. As the seconds turned to minutes, Aang and Sokka began to grow restless. Sokka had drifted off to looks at the props, stopping to ogle the collection of theatrical swords.

Aang glanced over, about to comment on the uselessness of fake swords in battle, when he heard the door behind him open. He turned and froze.

"How do I look?" Katara asked as she turned around slowly, fanning the dress out for inspection.

"You look pr—I mean you look really be—…uh, that is… you look really nice." Aang ducked his head trying to hide the burning in his face.

"Thanks, Aang." Katara looked to the side, a blush of her own gracing her cheeks.

"Hey, Sokka. Come here and let me see your armor." Katara turned and began walking in the direction of her brother. As they made eye contact with each other they gasped.

"Sokka, you look so grown up. You remind me of dad."

"Yeah, well… you look like mom."

Katara gave a watery smile, her eyes flooding with unshed tears. She looped her arms around her brother's waist. "I miss her. I miss them." Her shoulders trembled as a sob escaped her lips. Sokka wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

"I miss them too."

"Don't leave me," she whispered.

"Don't worry, baby sister. You're stuck with me."

Author's Note:

Thanks for all the reviews and helpful comments. I am open to constructive criticism, so if you have a suggestion please share it in a review. It has been a bit of a challenge for me to switch from an academic voice to a literary voice, so pointers are greatly appreciated. Writing a creative story is quite different from writing a dissertation or thesis. My thesis was on the sacrifice motif in fairy tales with particular focus on gender. (For example, Cinderella's stepsisters cut off their toes to fit the slipper, which resulted in getting their eyes picked out by birds. Would you do that for love?) I can write research papers in my sleep, but I'm so out of practice with creative writing that I'm struggling a bit. Also, I'm about to start my senior year in college, and with that comes student teaching, so updates will slow down a bit in September.

Sorry there aren't any scenes with Zuko in this chapter. Vacation happened. I just got back from my vacation in Florida. I visited family and saw 100 Monkeys perform in Jacksonville. I just have to say—Jackson Rathbone is by far more gorgeous in person than on screen. They were a bunch of sweeties. If you like eclectic music, go check them out.

I digress. Expect some Zuko and Katara interaction in chapter 3. Until then, I wish you happy reading.


	4. Masquerade

_Legacy of the Blue Spirit_

Chapter 3: Masquerade

Zuko sighed for the hundredth time as he waited outside for his uncle to finish shopping. Despite Iroh's polite offer to buy him something as well, Zuko had little interest in purchasing more junk. He looked over his shoulder, his glare a silent protest against his uncle. He kicked his heel as he leaned against the door frame. He didn't bother to pay attention to the old men's ramblings, choosing instead to watch the people on the street.

One by one his men began exiting the shop with arms full of clothing, decorations, and useless trinkets. Zuko watched as the soldiers proceeded to walk in the direction of the ship, chatting away without a care in the world on their faces.

Zuko clenched his fists, his face turning red with anger as smoke streamed from his nostrils. He'd had it. His uncle was turning his battle trained soldiers into tulip-pansies. At this rate he'd never catch the Avatar. He stood up quickly, turned, and punched the door frame with a growl that stopped abruptly with a resounding crack. Flames licked the wood briefly before dwindling into nothing.

Zuko's body tensed as the adrenaline faded and the pain became unbearable. He grabbed his wrist tightly, trying to stop the pain as well as maintain composure. He bit his lip as he turned his hand over to inspect the damage. His fist had already begun to swell and a purple bruise was beginning to spread from his knuckles up to his wrist. Red pinpricks formed small puddles on his fingers.

"The walls and floors are coated in a fire-proof resin. We've had enough Fire Nation soldiers in these parts to make such accommodations." The owner continued on, never skipping a beat as he described how the cousin of his son's childhood friend discovered the concoction and how he selflessly volunteered his shop to be used in the experiments. The multiple experiments resulted in his shop being the only building completely doused in the sealant. Iroh responded with all the appropriate 'oohs' and 'ahs' expected of an interested customer.

Iroh glanced over his shoulder at Zuko. He sighed and shook his head. He thanked the owner, gave his final purchase to another soldier, and headed towards the door. He grasped Zuko's shoulder firmly and began directing him towards the port. "Come, Nephew, let's get you back to the ship. The doctor needs to take a look at your hand. It'd be a shame if you weren't able to dance with the pretty ladies tonight."

Zuko gave a brief glare to his uncle but allowed Iroh to push him along.

"By the way, I found an interesting purchase I do not remember making. Where did you find such a handsome mask?" Iroh pulled out the mask and held it up to the sunlight for inspection. "It looks familiar. Do you know which spirit it is?"

Zuko shook his head. "No, I didn't think to ask. The lady I bought it from was strange."

"Strange?"

"She was rambling a bunch of nonsense."

Iroh laughed and returned the mask to his satchel. "You should have listened to her. She was probably giving you some words of wisdom."

"You would have liked her. You both talk nonsense. She was from the Fire Nation, too. "At this, Iroh perked up.

"Well, point me in her direction and I will introduce myself. It is possible I know her. I passed through this village many years ago on my way to Ba Sing Se."

Zuko considered his uncle for a moment before realizing that with all the crazy talk that came from his mouth, it was likely that Iroh did know the woman. "Uncle, the last thing I want to do is have you run into one of your old friends. We'll be here forever. If you haven't forgotten, we have a mission. We have to find the Avatar." Iroh pouted as he watched his nephew stride with purpose back to the ship.

"Nephew, did you decide what to wear with your mask?" Zuko paused for a moment before resuming his pace.

"No."

Iroh beamed. "Well, isn't it convenient then that I bought you some nice water-tribe robes to wear? I wonder how you'll look in blue." He took the robe out of his satchel and held it up to Zuko's back.

Zuko stopped abruptly and turned to face Iroh. "What do you mean 'Water Tribe' robes?"

"The mask is blue—I assumed it is a Spirit of the Water Tribe lore."

"I will not dress like a peasant!"

Iroh sighed. "Even the Water Tribes have nobility, Prince Zuko. You will earn more respect by giving respect rather than demanding it. You will be the Fire Lord one day. You should learn to respect the leaders of the other nations before you are placed in a position of power. Zuko, you have no idea how much chaos one can cause because of disrespect. For example, do you know how this war began? Sozin had little respect for the balance of power in the world. He was selfish, greedy and jealous. His decisions have caused the deaths of thousands of soldiers and innocent civilians. Don't you want this war to end, for the fighting to stop? You can put an end to it! You can—"

"The Fire Nation is the most powerful nation. Its leaders, its nobility are the strongest and most powerful in the world. I respect my country and its traditions. I refuse to degrade my birthright by dressing as a peasant! How dare you—" Zuko towered over his uncle as he continued his rant.

Iroh stood still and took the verbal abuse, ever the epitome of calm. He reflected on his nephew's spoilt attitude and the sorrow the boy had experienced at the hand of his father. His eyes trailed the lines of the gnarled skin around Zuko's eyes as images of the Agni Kai played through his mind. At the announcement of Zuko's banishment, Iroh had taken him out of the fire nation and rushed to find solace, only to realize that few of his former comrades would risk the Fire Lord's rage to protect his heir. It took weeks before they were able to escape the ships that had so kindly 'escorted' them out of the Fire Nation's borders.

Ozai had always treated his son with contempt and loathing, as he did with anyone he thought weak. Iroh had spent the last few years trying to undo the effects of Ozai's abuse on Zuko's psyche. Hearing Zuko spout off the all the brainwashing he'd received at the Royal Academy filled him with sorrow and regret.

"You disappoint me, Nephew."

Zuko choked on his words. He stared at his uncle with wide eyes. "What did you say?" he whispered. Zuko followed Iroh's movements as he brushed past him without a word.

"Uncle," he called.

"Come, Prince Zuko. The doctor needs to look at your hand. There will be many disappointed ladies if you aren't fit to dance." Iroh continued towards the ship without a word. Zuko stared at his back as they walked, silently reassuring himself that he was right and his uncle was wrong.

oOoOo

Zuko pulled the belt tight around his waist. His hands smoothed the fabric across his torso as he bent down to lace his boots. As he turned to lift the mask from his bed, Zuko's eye caught his reflection in the mirror. He paused and straightened his posture. He trailed his eyes over his form and noted how different, how unrecognizable he looked. His skin seemed warmer, his eyes brighter. His gaze drifted to the marred skin around his eye.

A sharp nock accompanied by a soldier's voice sounded at the door. Zuko pulled the hood over his head, tied on the mask, turned and proceeded to make his way on deck.

Iroh hadn't spoken a word to Zuko since their return to the ship. The doctor had examined Zuko's hand and apart from minor swelling and a few bruises, there was no internal damage. They parted ways to prepare for the festivities, neither looking back. His uncle's silent treatment was working in ways Zuko was unwilling to admit. It was obvious that whatever Zuko said had upset the old man. As he made his way on deck, Zuko realized that the only way to make this festival even remotely bearable would be an apology.

He immediately spotted his uncle dressed in a garish orange colored robe with an equally horrendous mask. The bright mask was a combination of yellow and orange streamers attached to a red face with a sinister snarl.

"What are you?"

"Well, Nephew, I decided to take your advice and dress as Fang. What do you think?" Iroh positioned himself in what he thought was a ferocious pose. It was all Zuko could do to keep from laughing.

"Uncle, go change. You look ridiculous."

"But Prince Zuko—"

"You were right. You'd look better as a panda."

Iroh beamed. He quickly took off his mask and tossed it aside before untying his robe.

"What are you doing? I meant change in your room!" Zuko turned, face flushed.

"I knew you'd see it my way so I went ahead wore my Hei Bai robes underneath. Look. What do you think?" Iroh slowly turned for Zuko's inspection.

Zuko nodded. "Better. Let's go. "

As the soldiers murmured amongst themselves, excited for a night of fun, Lieutenant Jee turned to the officers next to him and whispered, "So much for the _dragon_ of the West." They all snickered and ignored the glare their Prince sent their way.

oOoOo

The streets hummed with excitement as people sampled food, played games, and danced. Iroh wasted no time in pointing out all the pretty girls he thought would just love to dance with the Fire Nation prince. Zuko ignored all of them. Their faces reminded him of the daughter of the courtiers that always hung around the palace jumping for the chance to do the Fire Lord a favor. Those girls were fake and consumed with themselves. He shook his head.

"Keep your eyes open for the Avatar, Uncle. He could be anywhere." Zuko moved to stalk in the shadows when a firm grip stopped him.

"Prince Zuko, look at that lovely young woman by the ring toss just over there. Isn't she a sight. You should see if she'd like to dance." Iroh elbowed him as a not-so-subtle hint for him to move.

"I don't like dancing," Zuko scowled.

"She might," Iroh said with raised eyebrows.

Zuko looked over at the girl. She was dressed in an exquisite blue dress, and instead of a mask she wore white paint that highlighted the soft curves of her face. His eyes lingered at the fur that caressed her collarbone and strong shoulders. Her posture was soft and elegant. She was pretty. Zuko felt his cheeks heat as he returned his gaze to his uncle, thankful for the mask that hid the offensive blush. His uncle made a gesture encouraging him to ask the girl to dance. Zuko took a deep breath, nodded at his uncle, and began to make his way to the beauty.

As Zuko paused to let a group pass by, he realized that though beautiful, happiness was the last thing the girl was feeling. His eyes moved from the scowl on her lips to the hand gripping her arm tightly up to a boy's mask. Zuko didn't slow down as anger and a fierce protectiveness enflamed his blood when the girl tried to pull away.

oOoOo

The guy just couldn't take a hint. Katara had been flattered when the guy asked her to dance the first time. The second time she agreed out of politeness, but now she was more than willing to be rude. The guy was more arrogant than the entire population of the Fire Nation.

"I got separated from my group. I need to find them. It was nice meeting you." Katara gave the boy a strained smile and turned to find Aang and Sokka when he grabbed her. _Really_, she thought,_ the guy has no idea who he's messing with. _

She turned back to face the guy whose name she had quickly forgotten once he opened his mouth and didn't stop talking. "Look," she began in a firm voice, "I'm flattered you asked me to dance, but I'm not interested. Let me go, please."

The guy snorted at her. "Baby, I'm not letting you go anywhere. You can't just walk away from me. You don't know who I am, do you? You should be on your knees thanking me for asking you to dance."

Katara rolled her eyes. The guy really did have an ego the size of the Earth Kingdom. She tugged once again trying to loosen his grip.

"Let me go!" Katara cried, lamenting that she didn't think to bring her water sack. She was beginning to become frantic when a hand grabbed the boy's wrist and forced him away. She watched with quiet awe as the man pushed the offensive boy past the ring toss and into a Bobbing for Apple-Pears tub.

Katara laughed. The sight of the sopping Chang—or whatever his name was—made the last half-hour of misery worth it. She was just about to turn to look for her brother when a shout was heard and a firm hand grasped her, pulling her forcefully into the crowd.

Katara looked over her shoulder. They were being chased by a wet sloppy mess of a boy. His indignant expression filled her with delight. She turned and ran faster, tightening her grip on her mysterious hero's hand.

oOoOo

Zuko pulled the girl into a shop and shut the door, waiting for the scorned admirer to pass. He wanted to laugh as much as he wanted to chase the boy down and beat him again; yet, all he could focus on was the soft hand in his.

In a moment of sheer boldness he gently pulled her closer. He looked at her nestled against his side and smiled.

He opened the door to exit the shop when her voice stopped him.

"I want you to know that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but it was nice to be the damsel for once. Thank you," she said.

The blush on her face was charming and Zuko could feel heat rushing to his face. He was once again relieved that the mask covered his expression.

He nodded and released her hand to lead her back outside. Zuko slid fingers against hers and slowly wrapped her small hand in his. He gestured toward the crowd, a silent request to dance hanging in the air.

"I'd love to," she said.

Zuko had learned how to dance from private tutors. His mother had thought her son should know how to dance so he could woo pretty girls. His father disagreed. After his father banished him, Zuko had little to do other than hunt down the Avatar. The last thing he wanted to do was practice dancing. As he clumsily tried to remember the proper position for a dance, Zuko suddenly wished he had paid closer attention to his lessons—or at least participated in music night on his ship.

"It's okay. I'm not a great dancer either," she giggled. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other in his gloved one.

With one hand on her waist and the other wrapped around hers, Zuko began leading her into the throng of people. She would ask him questions to which he would nod or shake his hand. She seemed to instinctively know he did not wish to speak, for he was sure to make a fool of himself while trying to say something suave.

They both lost track of the number of dances. With each one they grew more confident and sure; drifting closer and closer until her head rested against his and Zuko's hand pressed hers to his chest.

Her soft manner was enough to make him forget the stress of his mission.

His spicy scent was somehow familiar, though she couldn't place it.

It was only after her brother came to take her away that Zuko realized he hadn't gotten her name.


End file.
